J for Joker
by DirtyLittleTruth
Summary: Gotham has become a police state occupied by a fascist government. Following a threatening run-in with the police, Harley is saved by a mysterious,yet erratic, anarchist known only as J. His purpose: to ignite a revolution sparked by assassination and destruction. When Harley becomes caught in his chaos, will J be her salvation or lead to her ultimate destruction?
1. Smile

J for Joker

-Smile-

"Remember, remember

The fifth of November

The gunpowder treason and plot.

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot."

But what of the man?

I know his name was Guy Fawkes, and I know that, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the houses of Parliament.

But who was he really?

What was he like?

We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught. He can be killed and forgotten. But four hundred years later an idea can still change the world.

I've witnessed firsthand the power of ideas. I've seen people kill in the name of them; and die defending them.

But you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it or hold it. Ideas do not bleed. They do not feel pain. They do not love.

And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man. A man that made me remember the fifth of November.

A man that I will never forget.

* * *

Harleen moved slowly around her apartment looking for her black heels.

 _What a mess,_ she thought as she found one under a pile of clothes and another under the bed.

Pulling her hair back in a tight bun she stared at her reflection in the mirror and behind her to her tiny studio. In resignation, she continued putting on her makeup.

Another day getting ready for her shift in the crazy house. Another day looking for cures to personalities that society decided were unwanted. Another day being a sounding board to some of the most twisted minds in the world.

And it was a full time job.

Ever since Batman had finished cleaning up the mobs and low level crazies that followed them she had had little sleep. He had done his job well. After dent's death, the local government had fallen in line with batman's thoughts on criminals. The police had come down hard on everyone. Scooping up anyone who so much as batted an eye in the wrong way.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, a separate life.

It started with the hard criminals, as it always does, and everyone rejoiced. The streets seemed to be safer. Children played outside once again. Batman was no longer needed and the skies were empty of his symbol for a time. A new mayor and district attorney were on the scene to maintain Batman's hard earned achievements.

However, as with happens with most men who suddenly achieve large amounts of power, they soon had nowhere to turn their focus and began working on mid-level bad guys, then low level, then the mentally challenged. Cameras and CCTV were set up and monitored every doorway. Sensors on every red light and sweeping voice monitors drove the streets listening for drug deals and nefarious acts. It made Harleen feel both safe and very afraid.

The first protest against the new commissioner and mayor ended in many arrests. The second saw the government labeling them as terrorists.

The protests grew and grew.

It was no longer safe to walk outside, whether from protests or fear of arrest and being labeled one of them. The public was divided with most leaning to replace the commissioner and mayor in the next election.

However, after the protesters bombed the police station, killing 30 innocent police officers, the public turned on the them and the mayor and commissioner won reelection in a landslide.

After that, there were fewer and fewer objections to the way things had become.

Curfews were a normal thing now. Surveillance a natural part of life.

Harleen looked at the clock on the wall and realized she was going to be late for her train. She finished zipping up her blue dress and grabbed her lab coat and ID on the way out the door.

As she passed through the double glass doors of her high rise apartment, Harleen looked up at the CCTV camera above her door.

She was safer now, she thought to herself, It was the for the best.

* * *

Today her patient was Mr. Edward Nigma, or as most people knew him by his alter ego The Riddler.

She both dreaded and secretly enjoyed her sessions with him. He was a challenge verbally and always kept her on her toes, but on days when she was tired, like today, it really could be strenuous to keep up with him.

Harleen would never say it out loud, but she truly doubted that Nigma would ever "get better".

He was The Riddler and The Riddler was him.

Separating them was an impossibility in Harley's mind. However, she played the role of dutiful doctor and went through the motions. This was her tenth session with him. Her notes were filled with the riddles he told her, her own observations, and medicinal recommendations. Harley looked down at the history from the last four months of their time together, and sighed.

"I have a name that is not mine, and no one cares about me in their prime," Harley zoned back into what the Riddler was saying realizing he was once again posing her a riddle,"People cry at my sight and lie by me all day and night. What am I?"

"I don't know Mr. Nigma, What are you?" It was lazy of her, but she was just too tired today for this.

"TaTaTa, Doc, that's not how this goes. Where did you go just now?" Harleen looked up at the man before her. Handcuffed to the chair and wearing dark blue Arkham issued sweats, he did not look like the mastermind everyone knew him to be. To her he was just Mr. Nigma, a slightly eccentric man in his late thirties, green eyes, tall, and rather witty. He looked grey and sunken in his seat. This light in here was never flattering to any personality.

"Sorry Mr. Nigma, I was simply thinking back on our progress that we have made over the past few months." It was not a complete lie.

"And what conclusion did you reach?" He smiled a kind smile at her.

"I think we are on the right track, Mr. Nigma," She could not tell him that she thought he was a hopeless case, a basket crumbling in, a lost cause.

He laughed at her response. A deep laugh from his gut. It seemed to shake the room and move down Harleen's legs.

Leaning forward he stopped suddenly and stared in her eyes, a serious look behind them and an almost shocked one in hers.

"Two guards stand in front of two doors, one always lies and one always tells the truth. You ask them which way you should go. Who do you believe?" He stared at her intently, truly wanting her to answer his query. They were his way of communicating with her as she knew, and he hated when she didn't at least guess. It went against their unspoken rules.

"I guess I would believe the one who told the truth," Harleen replied.

"Oh my dear doctor, you are so naive.," He shook his head in disappointment and gave a small laugh, "I am truly worried how you survive out there in the real world."

"Who would you believe?" Harleen inquired. Truth seemed the logical way to go for her.

He suddenly slammed his knees up under the desk, causing Harleen to jump.

"You think you know how this world works. It is easy to put everything into a little box and tuck it away in your neat little closet. Bad guys are bad, good guys are good, and grey is a color you cannot see. This is the problem with all you people, you always see the answer but can never solve the riddle." He was becoming visibly upset and Harleen knew their session was coming to an end. Nigma could never keep his civility up for too long before his darker side came out to play.

"And how do you solve the riddle, Mr. Nigma?" Harleen looked at him over her glasses. The question was posed with as level a tone as Harleen could muster..

"Think outside that neat little box of yours. That closely guarded, twenty-four hour, CCTV box. Maybe then it will come to you. Tell me, can you feel them watching you? Does it make you safe to feel their eyes on you as you walk home at night in the dark? Is giving up your freedom worth it? We are condemned as crazy when it is all of you who are truly insane. Who would willingly do that?" Nigma was standing now, pulling against his handcuffs. He pointed up to the camera in the corner of the room with his head.

"Two guards stand in front of two doors, one always tells the truth and one always lies." the doors to the room opened and two orderlies came in. Each grabbed Nigma by an arm and began to pull him from the room. Before he could go, Harley stopped them.

"Who would you believe Mr. Nigma," as lost and crazy as he was, Nigma's riddles still usually had a point. Harleen couldn't let him go without finding out his.

Nigma looked up from between the two orderlies and gave a small laugh, seemingly back in control of himself.

"Why my dear doctor, neither. I wouldn't believe either one." With that Nigma turned of his own accord and left the room closely followed by his entourage.

Harleen sat down at the desk and thought about Nigma's word, the Riddler's words. If you couldn't trust truth or lies, what else was there?

Harleen looked up at the camera in the corner of her office. A small shiver went down her back and not for the first time did she wish that she could be truly alone. but the soulless eye of the camera pointed ever at her, unblinking and steady.

Harleen sighed again and reached for her things.

It was late and time to head home.

* * *

It had turned cold outside as Harleen made her way from the train station to her home. The wind blew leaves down the street and the chill crept in even through her coat. Harleen wished yet again that she could afford a car.

Hurrying through the back streets, Harleen looked down at her watch. She had an hour before her curfew. Her card allowed her to stay out till midnight due to her shift at the hospital. Plenty of time to stop at the store and grab some soup for dinner.

As she turned the corner, Harleen found herself bumping into a chest. Bouncing off, she hit the ground hard and her purse went sprawling. Pain shot up her leg as her foot twisted from the heels she wore.

A grunt of pain left her mouth as she looked up to see a man standing in front of her.

"Oh, sorry miss, took a spill there." He gave a fake jovial laugh and reached down to help her up.

"It's ok." She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. However, he kept hold of her arm even after she had regained her balance. He pulled her in closer to his body. And Harleen became uncomfortable fast.

"Bit late to be out now right? Past curfew," His hand squeezed her arm, and Harleen had a hard time not wincing.

"I work late at the hospital, I was just heading home." She tried to pull her arm out of his hold, but he just chuckled and squeezed tighter.

"Oh yeah? What do you think about that boys? Think she's telling the truth." He spoke over her shoulder and Harleen turned to look where he spoke. Two men had emerged from the shadows of the alley. One was rather fat, but also very tall. The other rather looked like a rat to Harleen. His head poking forward with each step he took.

"Bullshit, that's what I think. I think she was out trying to make some extra money, know what I mean boys." The rat said and the other two laughed. Harleen at this point found her heart racing and her mind fogging. She knew she was becoming too scared and her fight or flight response was kicking in.

...and it was never in Harleen to run.

She stepped her foot down on the laughing man holding her arm and raised her other arm to connect her palm to the underside of his nose. Harleen heard a crunch and the laughing man, no longer laughing, let go of her arm. Harleen turned and ran, not waiting to see what damage her hit had caused. But she heard a curse behind her.

"Fuck man, she hit you good." The others were laughing at the man's misfortune.

"Don't just stand there fucking laughing you fucking idiots, go get her." Then there were sounds of heavy footfalls behind her. With her small gate and heels, the sounds were growing too close for Harleen's comfort. Running wildly, she moved without really thinking about her direction, which was her big mistake. On her next turn, she stopped short at the sight of a very tall wall blocking her path. A door sat in the wall to her right, but a good pull revealed it to be locked. When she turned to run back the way she had come, she saw the alley was blocked by the bodies of the three men. She had lost her element of surprise, and her escape path was blocked.

In short, she was screwed.

"Looks like you ran out of room little rabbit, no hole to go hide in?" The rat, still in a good mood remarked. The laughing man now had a look of death in his eyes, his nose bleeding as he moved down the alley and the other two followed.

"We were just going to have some fun with you bitch, but now I think I'll finish the job once we're done. What do you say boys?" The other two laughed in agreement.

Harleen looked up to a CCTV camera above a door to her right, and hope sprang in her heart.

"Touch me and the cops will have your heads," she proclaimed while pointing to the camera.

This didn't stop the men, in fact they laughed even harder at her announcement.

"Oh. Honey ain't no one going to come to your rescue, no one will care about you. Especially after we erase the tapes." The fat one finally spoke as he pulled out his badge. The other two followed suit.

"Oh look at that," The rat laughed," The police are here to save you after all."

Harleen froze in place, then she did the only thing she could do.

She ran to the door under the camera and began to kick and punch it.

"Help me, someone, please!" She punched it till her fists bled and all the while the men just laughed.

"Aww, sweetheart ain't no one coming for you."

She was pulled away by an arm around her middle and shoved roughly on the ground. One held her hands, another her feet. The last tore at her clothing not bothering with buttons.

She screamed and screamed.

Could no one hear her? Would no one come?

The man on top, the laughing man who once again had a smile, brought his mouth down hard on hers, shoving his tongue in her mouth. Not completely giving up, she bit down on the appendage and received a slap for her trouble. He returned his attentions to her neck and his terrible breath filled her lungs. He pulled back once again and laughed in her face.

Suddenly his laugh stopped, a quick shiny something had moved across his throat and now his laugh poured out of his throat in the form of blood. It flowed unrestrained down onto Harleen and covered her dress and face.

A chilling laugh filled the air, slow and over exaggerated. The other two men let go of her to stand up and stare at the man facing them.

He was laughing manically, his head thrown back in pure glee. His body was covered by a blood red shirt which was topped with a gun harness. Two guns glinted in the holsters and a knife was held in his hand, still shiny with blood. His face held tattoos that Harleen couldn't make out. His hair was a strange green color and he seemed to be deathly pale, which only emphasized that his teeth were silver instead of the normal white. Behind him stood four men, each as odd as the man laughing. One was dressed as a panda, another wore an eyeball mask, still another was dressed like batman minus the cloak. Only one man stood in a normal suit off to the side, seemingly unimpressed and disinterested in everything transpiring.

"Now that is a smile even a mother would love," The man in the center said while continuing to laugh.

Finally breaking from their shock, the other men reached to pull out guns, but the pale man ran forward and punched one gun out of the rat's hands while the other he threw his knife at. It landed in his gut with a loud splat.

"Woo Hoo!" he exclaimed letting out a gust of air, "This is just what I needed to warm up for tonight," he hopped from one foot to the other in glee. He reached behind him and pulled out a set of brass knuckles. He punched the rat in the face and turned to the fat man again. Hitting him where his knife rested, he laughed at the cry of pain that came from the man.

While the men fought, Harleen had crawled from under the corpse of the laughing man and moved her back to the wall. She looked from the pale man to his group of strange companions. They stood apart, and didn't even try to come to the aid of the pale man. She turned her focus back to the fight as she heard the fat man cry once again, then heard it trail off in a gurgle.

The pale man kicked the fat one down on the ground. He pulled his knife from his throat and casually turned to the rat who like her was cowering against the other wall.

"Man, your ugly my friend, let's fix that shall we." The pale man reached down and picked up a piece of wood from the ground. Moving toward the rat, he swung the wood down onto the knees of the man. A crunch and a cry of agony were his reward.

"I love killing the last one, they are the most fun. I get to take my time!" His joy was evident as he brought the wood down again and again. Suddenly he stopped and for the first time looked over at Harleen.

"Want to take a shot, Doll face?" he held the wood out to her and waited.

Harleen shook her head quickly, and the pale man raised his shoulders in a shrug.

"More fun for me," He looked down at the man at his feet. He was still alive, and making gurgling sounds, "I suppose I have to teach you a lesson so you can be a better cop my friend."

He reached down, grabbed the man by the hair, and looked into his face. Fear filled the rat's eyes, pure terror.

"Nah," the pale man said sounding almost bored now, "I'm just going to keep beating you."

Then he let the man go, stood up, and swung. He swung until wet sounds could be heard, and no more groans came from the pile of meat on the ground.

The pale man stood up with a sigh of happiness, resting the wood like a bat on his shoulder.

"Ah, what a warm up," he turned to face Harleen. He brushed his hair back into place and took a steadying breath. "Well Doc, you are a doctor right? I can tell by your coat, sensible heels, and too tight bun... That was fun wasn't it?"

He bounced closer to her and crouched down by her feet. Leaning in way too close to her face for comfort. She could smell him, and unlike the laughing man, he smelled like mint and expensive cologne. His smile didn't waver as he stared into her eyes. Her's she was sure were still filled with confusion and terror. His were wide open, filled with glee, and bright blue.

His look from a clinical standpoint could be labeled almost manic.

"I wouldn't say it was the best first date." For some reason she was pulled to say the joke. Maybe it was his smile. She had none, and the line was delivered dead pan. She still wasn't sure if she was out of the woods yet. Sure this man had saved her, but who would save her from him.

To her relief, he laughed, "Ha, Ha, Ha, hear that boys? What a joke."

He reached down and pulled her to her feet, but unlike the laughing man he let go and moved backwards.

"You got spirit girl, I loved when you bit his tongue. Panda man there almost shit himself laughing."

Harleen glanced over at the quiet panda suit, and doubted the truth in what he said.

"Who are you?" Harleen couldn't help but ask. She was so confused and this night seemed to be getting weirder.

"Who? Who? No, lovely, wrong question. you should say ' _what are you_ '?" He stood there, seemingly waiting for her to ask the question.

After a fashion, she said, "O.K, What are you?"

The pale man stood back, almost like on a stage. He spoke beyond her as if to an audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen! You've read about it in the papers! Now witness, before your very eyes, that most rare and tragic of nature's mistakes! I give you: the average man." He pointed down at the dead, beaten man at his feet.

"Physically unremarkable, it instead possesses a deformed set of values. Notice the hideously bloated sense of humanity's importance," he danced around the man pulling and poking at each enunciation, "Also note the club-footed social conscience and the withered optimism. It's certainly not for the squeamish, is it? Most repulsive of all, are its frail and useless notions of order and sanity. If too much weight is placed upon them... they snap. How does it live, I hear you ask? How does this poor pathetic specimen survive in today's harsh and irrational environment," he jumped up and looked down with a sad face.

"I'm afraid the sad answer is, 'Not very well'. Faced with the inescapable fact that human existence is mad, random, and pointless, one in eight of them crack up and go stark slavering mad," he seemed to pause for dramatic effect. Then looked up again and sauntered toward Harleen.

"but, who can blame them? In a world as psychotic as this... any other response would be crazy!"

He put his hands on either side of her head and spoke directly into her ear. His words were warm and calm. They had a deadly aspect to them that both scared and thrilled her like nothing had before.

"Me on the other hand, I wish to fill the churches with dirty thoughts. Introduce honesty to the White House. Write letters in dead languages to people I've never met," he pulled away and continued his speech, arms outstretched, walking in circles, he spoke to what seemed to Harleen to be the whole world.

"Paint filthy words on the foreheads of children! Burn your credit cards and wear high heels! Asylum doors stand open! Fill the suburbs with murder and rape! Divine madness! Let there be ecstasy, ecstasy in the streets! Laugh and the world laughs with you!"

He rushed in close once again and gently grabbed her face. His thumb stroking her lip softly, "That's what I am, one big laugh, one big joke! and I'm going to make this city fall over in pain" He finished his speech and the air seemed heavy with silence after such an animated speech.

Harleen couldn't help herself, the shock was too great. In yet another deadpan way she innocently asked, "Are you schizophrenic?"

He laughed, full on threw his head back and laughed. Then to her surprise he leaned forward and took Harleen's lips in a strong kiss. Over too quick to leave any impression but shock, he pulled back with a smack and said, "I am quite sure they will say so. For now though, you can call me Mr. J."

He let her go suddenly and moved back, "And you doc? What can I call you? Doll face? Sweet Cheeks?" He laughed at his own jokes.

"My name is Harleen Quinzel." Mr. J froze at her name.

"Harleen... Harleen...," he thought for a moment then held his hand up as if a brilliant thought had come to him, "I know, I'll call you Harely! Harley Quinn! What a name." He seemed so happy at his wit that Harleen was loathe to correct him, but she hated that nickname.

"Please don't call me that, my mother used to, AHH!" she stopped suddenly as a shoot rang out and a bullet hit the wall near her head. The joker stood with his gun pointed at her.

"What was that, HARLEY?" He emphasized her new name and his smile was gone from his face.

"No..no..nothing," Harley stuttered and sat down on her heels. Would this night never end, she thought to herself.

Mr. J turned to move past his men, then stopped as if considering something. With a flourish he turned once again and slid down next to Harleen and looked in her eyes.

"Hey Harley, I want to show you something." he smiled in excitement. "Come with me if you want to live."

She knew he was smiling at the quote, but there was a hint of madness, and under it all she knew he was really saying, _if you don't come, you really won't live past this night_.

He held out his hand to her, and reluctantly she took it. He pulled her to her feet, swept past his men in a hurry and pushed her into the front seat of a remarkably purple Lamborghini.

Circling around and jumping in himself, he stared at her with pure ecstasy filling his eyes.

"This will be a night to remember, Harley."

As they sped of into the night, Harleen found herself for some unknown reason thinking back on Nigma's first riddle of the night.

"I have a name that is not mine, and no one cares about me in their prime, people cry at my sight and lie by me all day and night. What am I?" Harley hadn't even known she had said it out loud until Mr. J shifted the car and turned his head in her direction.

"A tombstone, doll face, what else." He laughed and they sped off into the night.


	2. Nothing Really Matters

J for Joker

-Nothing Really Matters-

Shock is a peculiar thing.

Harleen knew she was in danger. She knew that now was the time to have her wits about her. Focus was needed to stay alive. However, instead, she found herself thinking about the time she visited the Grand Canyon when she was six.

Her eyes saw it as if it was happening all over again.

They had arrived at the view point during the hottest part of the day. It was June and the very air had felt like it could catch fire. They had all moved as a group to the edge of the canyon and looked out. Her brothers and mother stood in front of the sign and took pictures while her step father left to the cool air of the gift shop. Harleen, however, did not want to do either of those things.

She wanted to look down.

Moving away from her mom, she had run to a low rock wall with a sign on it that read "No Climbing". She looked over the edge, and on the other side was a straight plummet into the canyon.

 _What a splash that would make if she fell_ , she had thought, her child's mind not really knowing the repercussions of such a fall.

 _What fun it would be to stand on that wall all day long, to dance around it, and pretend she was flying._

So she had. Her little hands had pulled her up and she had spun and spun, all the time looking down into the chasm with wonder.

She had never known her mother could scream like that before that day.

Fear had been a strange thing to her until that moment, death an unknown person that she had heard her mother mention. Her mother had spoke of him in a whisper, but he had not seemed like something to fear. To Harleen's child mind, death was just a man. Only someone that came and went in the lives of people around her. She had no notion that he might come into her life one day, that he might come for her, but when her mother had found her, dancing with him on the edge of a cliff, she made sure Harleen would know that fear.

"Harley! What the hell were you thinking!" her mother had screamed in her face. She had shaken her and squeezed her shoulders so hard she had left a bruise, "you almost died you stupid girl!"

"I was just dancing," she had meekly replied, but her mother was almost inconsolable and continued as if she had not heard her.

"Died Harley, dead! Do you know what that means? You wouldn't be here anymore, you would be gone forever!"

Harleen had innocently replied, "Then I could be with Daddy," which was the wrong thing to say.

The look in her mother's eyes had gone from fear to anger in an instant. The silence that had followed that statement had even given little six year old Harleen a pause.

Through gritted teeth her mother spat, "No Harley, not with your good for nothing father." Her mother's hand was a vice as she pulled her to the edge. She lifted her back up on the rock wall, keeping her arm around her waist.

"Death, Harley, is forever. You will be gone from everything you know, you will be nothing anymore. You cease to exist." She handed her a stone, "Drop it Harley and listen to how long it takes to hit the ground."

She did and listened closely, She counted slowly to five before she heard the clink of the rock hitting one of the jutting cliff's edges.

Leaning forward to try and see where her rock had gone, Harleen had truly looked down for the first time and for the first time had felt the stirrings of fear.

"Now, it's your turn Harley," and her mother pushed

* * *

The feeling of falling brought Harleen out of her shock and back to the present. Back to her blood splattered clothes, the freezing feel of the air from the window, the soft leather seats, and the strange man next to her.

Her mother hadn't really let her go of course, but for an instant she had really thought she was going to fall. She had felt that plummeting feeling in her stomach, the sharp spike of adrenaline that races up your spine, and her mind had screamed danger at her.

No, her mother hadn't let her go. It had been a lesson to teach her that most basic of human survival... Fear.

She had learned what fear was that day.

She had felt it and kept it with her ever since.

Fear engulfed her in this moment.

That same plummeting sensation.

"You're lookin' kinda green over there, Harley," J laughed , "If you get sick in my car, I'll have to punish you." Again Harleen couldn't tell if he was joking or threatening death. His tone seemed to suggest both could happen at any moment.

 _What does he want me to say,_ Harleen thought, _what is the safest response?_

She was trying to draw on her training. She knew this was no ordinary man- he was clearly unhinged in some way- but the shock of the past hour coupled with the pain she was starting to feel in her body from the assault was robbing her of her ability to reason.

Glancing away from the road, J stared at her with a wide, ecstasy laced smile on his face that for some reason did not reach all the way to his eyes.

"Ha, Ha, Ha, oh Harley, you crack me up. Like a rabbit you are. Where's that spirit from earlier?"

His laugh echoed in the car. That staccato sound that seemed practiced, like he might practice with his guns. It had an intimidating note to it, and Harleen knew that he must use it as a weapon. Instead of turning his head back to the road, Harleen noticed he continued to stare at her. He stared for so long without turning his head back to the road she began to get worried. She glanced from him to the road and back.

"Umm, Mr," the car had started to swerve into the opposite lane, and while it was getting very late into the night, there just happened to be one car heading their way.

"Mr?" Harleen tried again, but he seemed more interested in staring at her. Still laughing, with that smile.

 _What was he waiting for? Is he waiting for me to do something?_ Harley feared that was the case.

The cars grew closer and closer.

"Mr. J, we're going to crash," she finally screamed.

Closer and closer.

With only seconds to spare, Harleen dared to reach over and jerk the wheel from J's hands. Their car swerved to the right, while the other car went to the left. They spun back into their lane, the other wasn't so lucky. Behind them, Harleen heard a terrible sound of ripping metal as the vehicle crashed into the parked cars that lined the street. Harleen looked in the rear view mirror as it rolled several times before coming to a stop.

She was frozen, her hands gripping the wheel in a vice like grip, breathing hard, and staring straight ahead.

 _I can't take much more of this._

It wasn't until she felt a warm hand on hers that she came back to reality and realized she was all but sitting in the mad man's lap. J let out that same long laugh, and gently pulled her hand away from the wheel, pushing her back to the other side of the car, "Oh, doll face, you crack me up!"

"Are you insane? We almost died!" Her anger seemed to have overridden her fear for a moment as she raised her voice to the mystery man next to her.

"Harley, my Harley, ya know you look beautiful when you're angry and covered in blood."

Blood?

That's right, he had slit a man's throat while he was over her. Harleen looked down at herself and truly took stock for the first time since this whole thing had begun. From what she could see, her dress was saturated from the waist up. Her knees were scraped, and her ankle was killing her from her first fall. She also felt the first hints of a bruise forming on her cheek from where she was hit, and the bite marks on her neck were also starting to give her some pain. She needed to see the damage, but she feared what she would find if she looked in the mirror.

As if sensing her hesitation, J reached across her vision and pulled down the sun visor. He flipped the mirror up, "Like an insane amazon," he remarked, and Harleen could definitely agree with the insane part.

The blood from the laughing man was indeed still covering her face and top. It had dried in her hair and clothes making them stiff and patches of it had started to flake off on her skin. Between the two, she looked like the unhinged one in the car, and nowhere near beautiful to her eyes.

"We wouldn't've crashed ya know, they always move to the side... Always," he paused, musing, then exclaimed with too much happiness, "Hey, they maybe even wouldn't have crashed if you hadn't moved the car," Joker laughed at the thought, "oh, but it is way more fun when they crash."

Harleen felt a wave of guilt roll across her mind. _Was that true_ , she thought, _had she caused that accident?_

Her anger fading away with every passing minute, she found herself left with only her utter exhaustion. Her adrenaline was tapped out and even though this man next to her still posed a threat, she had little energy left to care. After all, he had saved her. Why save her then kill her?

She had to know, the anxiety of not knowing was killing her.

Her defenses crumbling, every experience of the night weighing on her mind, her fatigue pulled the question from her lips.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

There was no fear in the question, only a desperate need for an answer. However, that desperation grew as the silence between the question and the answer grew.

His thinking finally over, he replied, "hmmm, not tonight sweet cakes," then flashed her, not the now familiar manic smile, but rather a sweet one that did more to settle her suspense than the words did.

It was good enough for her.

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she slid down deeper in the car. This did not go unnoticed by J.

"Having a bad day sweetheart?"

"You could say that," the seat of the car was suddenly more comfortable. With her immediate fear gone, the exhaustion was settling in her bones. Harleen stared out the window watching the streets pass by. She noticed that J seemed to have no regard for traffic laws or other cars as he barreled his way down the street running lights and cutting people off.

This did little to affect Harleen, however. The hypnotizing movement of the pavement below was working on her brain. Her eyes were drooping and things were seeming less and less important than how soft the seat was beneath her. Still, through her sleep she found herself asking about the cameras; wasn't he worried about the police? His car was rather unique after all.

"Gotham's finest would have a ball catching me," was all he replied.

"What about your curfew?" Harleen inquired. Her reward was yet another head tilting laugh.

"Oh, Doll, are ya sure you're not a comedian?" He laughed for several moments, before he suddenly sobered. Tilting his head to the side and looking at her once again, he casually said with no trace of a smile, "Do I look like a man who follows a curfew?"

"No." was her simple reply, and that was enough conversation for Harleen.

They drove for miles, heading closer to the middle of the city. Years ago, this was a bustling epicenter of night life, with clubs and concerts drawing in the night owls of the city to mingle and play and pretend for a night that they were something different. Now, though, it was empty and stark. Few qualified for the curfew passes to stay out past ten, let alone get the licenses needed to purchase and consume liquor. Harleen, couldn't remember the last time she had had a drink, but she could really go for one now.

After a few minutes, Harleen finally noticed it felt like they were driving in circles.

"Where are we going?" She hadn't thought to ask before in the chaos of the fight.

"Looking for the best place," He was scanning the buildings looking for something. He must have found it because he exclaimed with glee, "Ha Ha, there you are," as he turned them into a parking garage and proceeded to drive up and up.

"What is this place?"

With a sigh he answered,"So many questions. Well, my dear, we are on our way to a performance of sorts. Kinda my debut to society if you will."

He seemed so sincere, though Harleen couldn't imagine this man in any civil society. She thought back to the death of the men in the alley. The way he seemed almost elated in causing their demise. Even though he wasn't covered in blood like her, she could still see evidence of his deeds splattered on his shirt. They were faint on the red fabric, and Harleen wondered if that was why he wore the color.

She didn't know why she continued the conversation, maybe it was the shock, maybe it was in lieu of anything else to do while she sat three feet away from her new savior slash murderer acquaintance, but she found herself asking, "Are you an artist?" Her voice sounded far away. _Yep, we are definitely in deep shock_ , her inner dialogue mused.

He paused."Of sorts," was his answer.

"Do you play an instrument?" It almost sounded like another person talking now. She couldn't keep her eyes open.

At this he smiled, "Oh yes, percussion is my specialty."

"The drums?" her lids dropped further. _Why couldn't he just take her home? Why couldn't this night be over?_

"Ha Ha, Sure," Harleen felt unsure of his answer, but was past caring. She closed her eyes, secure in the fact that at least for now she was safe, for now she could sleep. She was so tired. She had been afraid for so long.

As she drifted off she heard J whisper, "Well, Harley Quinn, don't sleep for long. Curtain rises in thirty minutes. This is going to be a night to remember.",

Harleen's last thought was one of agreement. He had already made sure she would never forget this night. She mused that anyone looking in at her would have a hard time guessing who was the unstable one of the two: the pale, green haired man with the guns and a silver smile or the blood splattered woman sleeping next to him without fear.

* * *

The silence in the car pulled Harleen from her sleep. Somehow she knew even before she opened her eyes that she was alone. His presence was so palpable that the loss of it was enough to rouse her even from her exhaustive sleep. For some reason she didn't feel as comfortable as she did before. With the engine off and the windows down, the cold was seeping into her bones.

Glancing around, she realized they had parked on the top level of a parking garage in the center of the city. Buildings rose around them, but all of them were dark and silent, a strange feeling to get in the middle of a city.

J was standing near the edge by a low wall. He seemed to be looking out at something, his back to Harleen. She took the moment to examine him. He seemed to be unable to stand still. He moved from foot to foot in anticipation. ADD, Harleen thought. With his unusual and erratic thought process, it could be true.

She wondered also, at his coloring; _Why the green hair and white skin? Also, what had happened to his teeth? How did he have guns?_

Question after question plagued her mind with no answers in sight.

Through the silence, a ringtone sounded and J pulled his cell from his pocket. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but after a time she could hear his echoing laugh.

"Harley!" he shouted, surprising her, "wouldn't you join me out here, love."

He never turned around, did he know she had been staring at him, analyzing him? When she made no move to get out he visibly tensed, no longer shifting from foot to foot.

"Harley, don't make me come back there and carry you," his words sent a chill down her back and she found herself opening the door in a daze. Before she knew it, she was standing side by side with him. Before her lay several buildings, one very much like the rest.

"Look at it Harley, a more perfect stage could not be asked for." He spread his hands wide as if showing a beautiful work of art.

Harleen looked around confused. She recalled when she was falling asleep that he said he was an artist, that they were going to a performance, but this seemed an unlikely performance space.

"I don't see any instruments, or an audience."

That laugh once again followed her words,"What an observation Dollface. But wait," and suddenly he jumped up onto the low wall. He turned and pulled Harleen up after him pulling a small scream from her lips. She held onto his arm with a death grip, however he didn't seem to mind as he continued what seemed to Harleen to be a prepared speech.

"Look at the stage before you, set to represent the justice that has been found thanks to Batman and the good ole Gotham PD.," he pointed to a building a few blocks away. To Harleen it looked like any other in the city. "Behold, the dictators of sanity. The MCU. The seat of crime solving, and the home of the illustrious bat signal. It is to them that I now dedicate my show, to those pompous task masters, the lords who have taken our freedom, thoughts, and sanity. It started there, with that symbol shining in the sky, calling that dark knight to do what they couldn't. Pulling people from the dark and hauling them into the light," he paused in his speech and added almost as a side note, "What a dick."

He grabbed Harleen by the back of the neck and pointed her face at the building. The move tilted her forward and her body recalled all those years ago, standing on that ledge, looking down into death.

"Ya know, Harley, all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy," He laughed, as if that was the funniest joke. "That is the goal. Let's see if this night can bring some much needed insanity back to the heart of this city." Then he, quite gently, pulled himself from her grip. Pulling one of his guns from its holster he held it up as if it was a maestro's stick. He tapped it on an invisible stand and cleared his throat.

"Now Harley, listen closely for those drums." Then he raised his gun and moved it as if conducting an orchestra. Silence met his movements and Harleen glanced from him to the building in confusion. "Oh, what an overture, Can you hear the strings?"

Suddenly she could hear it. A song had begun playing through the speakers that announced curfews and government messages. It rang throughout the city and echoed for miles. It was some kind of classic orchestra that had been spliced together with chaotic rock music. It was jarring and Harleen could feel it shaking her bones.

 _How was he doing that,_ Harleen thought.

She was so surprised she didn't even notice she found herself looking down without fear, trying to find the source of the music.

"Where is that coming from?" Harleen screamed over the noise.

"Wait for it, here comes the crescendo!" And as he said this he pointed forward with such force that Harleen once again followed where he pointed. Almost instantaneously, the building that had been the MCU exploded in a fiery cascade. Harleen could feel the heat of it even from so far away, and she recoiled back in fear, jumping down and retreating behind J.

As she watched, J danced with pure ecstasy. Twirling and spinning on the ledge with no care or fear of falling.

"Oh beautiful, isn't it!", Harleen didn't know if he was talking to her or himself. He didn't seem to care if she was there or not.

He danced there on that ledge, silhouetted by the fire behind him.

He looked like the devil himself.

 _How many people just died while I watched,_ Harleen thought as her feet took her further and further away from J, _how many people has this man killed?_

She stared at his silhouette in horror, _what had she done?_ _What would happen to her if someone found out?_

Back and back she went never turning around. Her fear was moving her now, moving her away from the threat that had only hours ago been her savior.

Someone must have placed fireworks at the bomb site because green and purple explosions began to light the sky. Each one showing J moving almost like a strobe light. He suddenly stopped dancing and looked around him, and Harleen knew he was looking for her.

For the second time that night, her fight or flight response kicked in, and she had no delusions with regards to him. She knew the only choice was to run. She couldn't stay with this man, he would get her killed. Or he would kill her.

Just as he turned to look behind him, Harleen too turned and ran for the stairwell.

"Harley!" she heard him call her name over the music and continued fireworks, but she dared not turn around, "Harley Quinn!"

His voice held a calm anger that she hadn't heard from him yet that night, it was the sanest she had heard him sound all night, and she did not want to know what that meant. Just as she reached the stairwell door a shot hit the wall to her right causing her to recoil and release the door. She waited for the inevitable second bullet to hit her in the back, or maybe he would hit her head and all of her problems would be over. But, no shot came. She slowly looked over her shoulder and glanced back at the man on the ledge.

The man silhouetted by fire. The man who had saved her life, and probably condemned it too.

He stood frozen on the ledge, his gun held out before him, his smile gone. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind. Some choice that Harleen was sure had everything to do with her.

Finally, he rolled his shoulders in annoyance, and lowered his gun.

They stared at each other, as the last of the fireworks filled the sky, and Harleen felt a sense of destiny fill her.

 _This will not be the last time I see you will it_ , her eyes said.

 _Not a chance_ , his answered.

With that, Harleen threw the door open and ran.


	3. Perspectives

J for Joker

-Perspectives-

In a round, grey room, four men sat in a solemn silence, empty except for the long table the men sat at and a large screen that hung dark in front of them stretching from floor to ceiling. It was, as it was meant to be, the center of all attention in the room.

The men sat facing the screen with more than a chair's distance between them.

They were waiting.

They did not speak to each other, only chancing a glance out of the corners of eyes to ascertain the mood of the other. These men were not friends, and could barely be called coworkers. They were not in the habit of acknowledging the other's existence, let alone a little chatting. They were not there for each other, but rather for what was about to come up on the screen.

They sat restlessly.

One more so than the others.

Detective Gordon knew this was not going to be a good meeting. Nothing like this had happened in almost a decade. Not since Dent, not since Batman went away, not since the police bombings.

He could feel the tension of all in the room, and he more than anyone would get the brunt of the anger that was about to rain down on them all. It was his office that had been bombed. His house that had been violated. His responsibility. He knew the others would see this as HIS weakness not theirs.

But hopefully, she wouldn't see it that way.

To her, they were a collective.

One body, that worked together to handle the chaos that was Gotham city.

Gordon sat at the end of the table. To his left were the different leaders of the agency's that made up what she referred to as The Head, the leaders of the Gotham governmental power.

Next to him sat The Eyes and Ears of their group, Commissioner Loeb. A gruff, older man of fifty or so, Loeb and Gordon had been in the force together for almost twenty years now. However, they had never been friends. Before Batman had come along, Loeb had always seemed to get in Gordon's way when he was trying to make breakthroughs in cases or follow leads. Gordon was grateful that now his duties took him more towards town hall and away from the precincts.

Loeb managed the surveillance for the head. The groups that did hourly audio sweeps and the cameras that monitored curfews were under his domain, and he was very efficient at his job. Several times, his sweeps had stopped potential threats before they could get to the realm of possibility. He could find people in their homes discussing the attacks, before it became obvious, before they had gone out and done the deed, killed people.

Yes, he was an officer like Gordon, but he would not look to Loeb for support against her anger. Loeb detested Gordon, and that would never change.

After Loeb sat Jack Ryder. Ryder had been a successful TV host in his day, who had moved up in the world. You could still see it in the way he dressed and cared for himself that he was a man who had lived in front of a camera. His hair was slicked into a modern style, his face clean and shaved, his suit high end and impeccable.

He represented The Voice of The Head. He ran Gotham press and Gotham TV, and through these organizations The Head was able to get its messages out unimpeded. He also monitored any other form of media, looking for threats. Of all the people at the table, he looked the most personable, however Gordon knew that would be a mistake for anyone to think. Ryder was very capable at his job, and if you weren't careful he could convince you that up was down and your grandmother was an Islamic terrorist bent on the destruction of Gotham.

After Ryder, sat the last member of the group.

Dr. Crane, the creepiest man Gordon had ever met. He wasn't part of the head, but instead was called The Finger. He led a special investigative and detaining force outside of the police, and reported directly to her. In many ways, Gordon knew that Crane was above the law. He spent the most time with her, and spread his influence everywhere. The people of Gotham knew of him. Spoke of him with fear.

"Be careful, or Crane will come for you," was a mantra that mothers told their children, and it was frightening because it was true. He would come for you. If you caused trouble. If you were a danger, if they didn't like you, he would come, take you away, never to be seen again. There were rumors, that Gordon hoped were just that, of experiments being done on those taken away.

Gordon quickly glanced at Crane; he did not like to look for too long. He was willowy and younger than most at the table, but there was a cold emptiness about him that was frightening even from so far away.

Alone.

Gordon knew that amongst these men he was truly alone.

He represented The Nose of The Head. The investigative arm of the government, which is what he had always done, even before this council was set up. He had just seen it as an extension of his duties. When it had formed years ago, he had been honored to sit at this table. To finally have a say in what happened in the city. To make a difference.

Now, sometimes, looking around at the men next to him, he wondered exactly what kind of difference he was making.

The screen before them flashed to life. No warning. One minute dark and the next filled with her face.

Amanda Waller, The Head.

The current elected mayor of Gotham as well as the head of several federal governmental groups, she sat there above them all, staring down into their faces, and Gordon could see the anger in her eyes. However, she didn't speak. No she let them wallow in her anger, let them feel how displeased she was with them before she spoke. She had power in her stare. Power in her eyes. It was one of the reasons she was elected and continued to be elected. She was as intimidating as Gotham itself. In truth, Gordon had to admit, she had tamed the once wild city with an ease that had surprised everyone. Now she held the city by the throat. Any sound of chaos, any whisper of discontent and she was there to choke it out before it could even turn into a cough.

"Gentlemen," her voice broke the silence and caused Gordon to flinch, "You have had four hours. Where are my results?"

When no one immediately spoke up, she called on her main man first, "Dr. Crane?"

"The area around the Major Crime Unit has been quarantined, and significant witnesses have been detained." His reply was cold and flat. Uninterested.

"Good," Waller replied and moved one. She had no qualms tonight with him.

"Commissioner Loeb?"

Loeb sat up a little straighter in his seat at the mention of his name, "We found a recording device wired into the emergency broadcast system. The song was Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody," Waller sneered at the mention of the song, but did not comment so Loeb continued, "We have also doubled our random sweeps, and are monitoring a lot of phone surveillance showing a high number of people being concerned with the blast."

Waller shifted her attention without even moving her head, "Mr. Ryder, what are we doing about that?"

Here came the part that Gordon was most uncomfortable with. The lying. Lying to the people to keep them from panicking, he explained to himself, but it still never felt right.

Ryder smiled up at Waller showing off his charm even though it was wasted on her. Gordon believed he was incapable of suppressing it.

"We are calling it an emergency demolition. We have spin coverage on the network and the paper. We've also lined up several experts to testify against the structure of the MCU. We are also reassuring everyone that the Bat signal is still intact and being held at city hall for now."

Again Waller scoffed, "That stupid signal. I want you to have Sionis talk tonight about the dangers of these old buildings and symbols, and how we must avoid clinging to the edifice of our chaotic past. He should conclude that the new MCU will become the symbol of our time and the future that our conviction has rewarded us."

Gordon never understood how people couldn't see right through some of this bullshit. Obviously, at least to him, no one would see the MCU as a symbol greater than the Bat signal. Yet, time after time, the people not only believed what they were told, but also blindly followed whatever direction they were told to look. Gordon glanced over at Ryder who was still smiling.

Up is down.

Pulled from his musings Gordon realized Waller had begun talking to Loeb again, this time about the terrorist himself.

"Our surveillance cameras captured several images of the terrorist, though we have no match so far. Both facial and retinal scans have come back inconclusive. His companions' masks also make scans impossible. We were hoping the man in the suit in his entourage would be a lead, but again all searches have come back negative. We were able to get a picture of the girl that Crane's men were," a pause and a glance in said man's direction conveyed Loebs disgust in an instant,"detaining,"

The men stared for a moment, then went back to ignoring each other. To Gordon's surprise Waller addressed him next. He had begun to think she wouldn't speak to him until after the meeting was over.

"Who is she Detective Gordon," he wished he could give answers to her as everyone else had, but his job was a little more involved and took more time. So, unlike the others his report started with a, " We aren't sure yet Ma'me, but we are working on several leads."

When he didn't continue, Waller huffed then prompted,"Anything else?"

"We did locate the sight of the fireworks launch and found traces of explosives used at both sites. Unfortunately, despite the high level of sophistication in the job, these explosives were homemade with over the counter chemicals that you can buy at any store. Whoever they are, they have some advanced knowledge of chemistry working on their side. I have to admit, they are good at what they are doing."

Waller cut him off before he could continue further, "Spare us your professional annotations, Mr. Gordon, they are irrelevant."

Anger rose in Gordon at her words, but he clenched his teeth and replied, "Apologies, Mayor,"

Then she moved on as if he didn't even exist.

"Gentlemen, this is a test. Moments such as these are a matter of faith. To fail is to invite doubt into everything we believe, everything we have worked for, doubt will plunge this city back into chaos," she paused for dramatic effect, staring them all in the eye,"and I will not let that happen."

Silence followed her proclamation.

"Gentlemen, if you will excuse us, Detective Gordon and I need to have a small chat."

Gordon had been expecting that, but it still stung to be singled out amongst their group as the failure. The other men rose and left the room as Gordon continued to stare up at the imposing visual of Amanda Waller. They maintained eye contact until the room was empty and even longer after that.

Finally Waller began, "Three fingermen were killed last night by one lunatic," she paused here as if waiting for an explanation from Gordon. However he had none to offer. She knew that. He knew that. So she continued, "It is also highly probable that this same person had earlier planted an explosive device of startling capability within the MCU under the home of the bat signal. The cities sign of hope and perseverance."

Here Gordon did try to speak up, "Amanda, I..." but Waller's anger finally spilled out.

"You will be silent, Mr. Gordon!" She yelled, and the anger did not look good on her face. It had turned her red and her eyes bulged. It was as if she had been holding it in during the meeting and now it was finally too much to control.

"Your incompetence has cost us our strongest symbol of authority and a jarring propaganda defeat! Do you understand what happened last night? Someone did the unthinkable! Someone hurt us!" She sat back in her chair breathing hard, and leveling an accusatory look at him. She concluded with, "and you allowed them to do it."

Gordon glanced down at his hands.

He agreed. He had allowed this to happen. They had hit him hard, and he vowed he would find out who had done this. He was shaken, but he didn't realize how shaken Waller was, until she added, "I want him found Mr. Gordon. I want his head, or by God I'll have yours instead!"

Then the feed cut, and he was left alone in the grey room.

Gordon thought back on that threat. Had she meant his job or his life? He wasn't certain, but one thing was for sure. He had seen Waller scared, even for the briefest of moments. In her eyes he had glimpsed it. What had scared the unshakable Waller?

Up is down, he thought once more, then stood and strode from the room.

He would start by finding the girl.

* * *

"Did you see what happened last night? Crazy right?"

Harleen looked up from her uneaten yogurt to glance at her coworker Sarah, who was in turn staring at the TV that hung in the corner of the break room. She was a rather drab woman, short in stature, with dyed black hair. Her attention on the TV had not shifted even though Harleen knew she was speaking the question to her as there was no one else in the breakroom save them. Sarah must have desperately wanted someone to gossip with about the event as they were not in the habit of small talk between them.

Sarah continued, obviously not really caring if Harleen answered her question, "I saw it, the whole thing. It happened a few blocks from my boyfriend's apartment," her voice held a note of pride that confused Harleen, _why would anyone be proud to witness destruction and death?_

Harleen glanced up at the TV. Two newscasters were cheerily relaying the events of the day. Harleen had anticipated immense coverage of the explosion, but she had yet to hear or see anything in the paper or on the TV all day that day. It was as if it hadn't happened. Now, listening to the feigned enthusiasm of the newscasters, she understood why.

Harleen had not truly been listening to the newscast, too caught up in her own musings of the previous night to really care, but now that she was paying attention her eyes widened in shock.

"Now, on the lighter side of news, the crew in charge of demolishing the old MCU building wanted to give it a bit of a send off." the woman turned to the man beside her in a practiced way so he could finish the story.

The man smiled and continues, "That's right Sally. Although the music and fireworks were not expected, the demolition had been planned for sometime and included in last year's budget. Construction of the new MCU headquarters is set to begin next month."

And that was it.

They moved on to the weather after that and Harleen was left in shock.

No mention of J or his goons.

No mention of her.

She was sure there were cameras all around that place. Sure that someone had seen them up there on the roof of that parking garage. She had been so paranoid all day that someone would come and find her, arrest her. She did not want to get caught up in any police investigation or be labeled a troublemaker by the government. People who made trouble often ended up in Blackgate, or in her ward, and she did not want to be in either.

It did not make her feel better, what the TV had said. In fact, it made her feel worse. Someone was trying to cover up what had really happened out there, and that meant they might want to cover her up as well.

Sarah scoffed at the news, "There was no stupid demolition. It was the middle of the night. No crews were there. Plus who does that? Who plays music and shoots fireworks for a building? I mean really?"

At least she's not stupid, Harleen thought as she silently agreed with her. She looked down at her meal, uneaten, and decided to give up. The news broadcast had sealed her appetite away for good. She started to pack up her things and make her way back to her office. All the while contemplating the man she now knew as J.'

She had woken up that morning hoping that it had all been a dream. The men chasing her, their deaths, that laugh, but it wasn't. She figured that out as soon as she moved out of bed and felt her bruises for the first time. The pain was a reminder that it had been real.

She had been attacked last night, and she had been saved.

By a crazy man she was sure.

A crazy man with bright blue eyes, a weaponized laugh, and a questionable sense of morals.

She was unsure of what to think of him still: savior or villain?

Both?

The stare he had given her as she left sent chills down her spine.

It had been a promise, she would see him again.

Her mind was both terrified and excited by that thought. Her curious side wanted to know more about him, about where he came from and what his motives were, if he had any. But another part of her mind was reminding her over and over that curiosity killed the cat. He killed those men as easily as anyone would dispose of a bug, and he did it with glee in his eyes. He could do the same to her, and she did not like that thought.

Harleen was so preoccupied with her thought that she did not see the man standing in front of her office door until she had bumped into his shoulder.

"Oh I'm sorry... Oh Dr. Arkham, I apologize," he looked down his nose at her and didn't immediately speak. He was an older man of sixty or so and his wrinkles showed that he had never smiled a day in his life. Harleen stood there awkwardly in front of him. She couldn't move past him as he was standing in front of her door, yet he wasn't saying anything to her. Just looking at her with judging eyes. It was never a good thing when he came to your office, and she had been lucky enough up to this point to only have met him during her interview. Even then he hadn't spoken, and had let the other doctors question her. She knew though from other doctors that he was old school in his beliefs of psychology and mental health, as much as he was old school in his manner of dealing with employees.

When he still hadn't made a move she chanced a start to the conversation, "Can I help you doctor?"

He scoffed and answered, "I doubt it Doctor Quinzel"

The emphasis he put on Doctor showed his disagreement with the term attached to her name.

 _Well, that's insulting,_ Harleen thought. She had never been so offended by her own name, but the way he had said it was with such disdain that in couldn't be taken as anything other than an insult.

He continued, however, and Harleen had no chance to react before he said, "I was against hiring you doctor. Your questionable resume and unorthodox ways of healing patients is not something I had ever thought would be in my hospital, yet I was overruled by my board," he paused then looked her up and down before he added, " and your dress is also one of an unprofessional temp."

Harleen stood there in shock. She couldn't help looking down at herself and wondering what the hell he was talking about. Her blue dress was a little tight yes, but it went past her knees. Her heels were sensible and she wore a doctor's coat over all of it. Obviously this man, had a vendetta against her, and she hadn't even spoken to him before.

Her ire rose and she couldn't help but say, "Is there a point to this Dr. Arkham? I have patients to see." Her tone was more sarcastic than it should have been, but she couldn't hold it in. Not after last night, not after almost losing her life and then getting dragged around the city by a villainous hero. She was too tired and bruised for an old man's sass.

"Your treatments of a one Mr. Nigma have been against regulations. You have been seeing him without drugs or sedation and you have cancelled his shock therapy." He stopped and Harleen thought that he must be waiting for an explanation.

"I don't believe in medication unless in extreme cases, and shock therapy has proven to be unsuccessful time and time again. Nigma just wants someone to talk to, he needs to be understood."

That response must not have pleased Arkham because his face turned red as he all but shouted, "I pioneered the technique we use here at Arkham Asylum. I ordered Nigma for his treatments. There are dangerous patients here, Ms. Quinzel. Some who have killed others, do you really think you know what is best?"

Grinding her teeth, all Harleen could say was, "DOCTOR Quinzell."

Then she pushed past Arkam to go into her office.

He followed, "You will change Nigma's treatments back to what I had originally prescribed," he said it with such surety that she took great satisfaction in what she said next.

"Your name may be on the building Dr. Arkham, but you no longer run this facility. It is run by a board, who obviously believe in my 'unorthodox' ways, and as long as I continue to receive support from them, I will not change my ways of treatment for my patients. Even if such a request was asked of me, I would rather move to another facility than go back to tactics such as EST."

Arkham was fuming, and Harleen just had to add, "Now Doctor, if you don't mind I have to get back to MY patients." Then she gathered up her files for her next session, and stood at the door with her hand gesturing for him to go first out of it.

"Do what you want, for now." he finally said in a silent voice as he slid from her room and down the hall.

 _Ominous_ , Harleen sarcastically thought as she closed her door and moved the opposite direction.

She still had six hours in her shift.

It's going to be a long night, she thought, not knowing how true that would turn out to be.

* * *

It had been almost a decade now since he had been standing where he was standing. His body, older and worn from many battles, did not move with the same stealth it had back then. Though still as quiet as a mouse, he could hear his feet shuffle and catch a rock where once there would have been complete silence. He could feel the discs in his back aching from disuse and his knees popped with the strain of sitting so long in one position.

Yes, it had been a while for Bruce Wayne, and he did not don his alter ego of batman lightly.

He had believed it was over, that he could finally leave justice in the hands of the elected people. The people in the light. However, today he realized how naive that sentiment truly was.

He sighed in resignation, _the world turns like a wheel and here we are again._

He once again found himself waiting on the ledge outside Gordon's office. Waiting for him to return so he could question him on the police's knowledge- or lack thereof- of the events of the previous night. While he was lamenting the loss of his reclusive retirement, he was looking forward to speaking with his old friend again.

He had not seen or talked to the man since the incident with Dent nearly 10 years ago, though he had kept tabs on him of course. He knew of Gordon's involvement in the organization known as The Head. He knew that Gordon now worked with Waller and that Waller worked for the federal government more than she worked for her electoral base. Bruce was still debating the merits of Waller, but for now he saw her as an improvement, a necessary evil.

Under her terms, she had brought crime down to a record low. Statistically, Gotham was safer than ever. That would have to do for now.

Bruce turned his head as a light came on in the office he was staking out. He saw Gordon shuffle in, his shoulders hung low as he stared at something on his phone and Bruce couldn't help thinking that he looked older than he ever had before. Something was obviously weighing on his old friend's mind.

As Gordon took his seat at his desk, Bruce used his grappling hook to swing to the window at his back. He quietly slid it open and got right to business though he knew Gordon would be surprised by seeing him again.

"Leave for a few years and they go and blow up your signal," Bruce thought a joke might ease the shock that was sure to hit Gordon. True enough, Gordon was startled enough that he jumped up out of his chair in fear.

 _Well, it has been 10 years since someone spoke to him from the dark I suppose_ , Bruce thought and tried not to smile at the look on Gordon's face.

Gordon stood in stunned silence, trying to process what he was seeing before him. When the realization came, a true happiness that Gordon had not felt in years overcame his face.

"It's you." Gordon moved as if he would hug him, but stopped himself, "You're here. Why? Where have you been?"

"Batman wasn't needed, until now it seems. The explosion. What do you know?"

Gordon shook his head and let out a laugh, "Ten years and he is still all business," he sighed then continued, "An unknown man and his group carried out the attack last night. No deaths, thank God, but a difficult thing to explain to the public. From what we can see, there is a group of four men all wearing costumes and not recognizable with our software being led by another man. Seemingly under his direction, they laid explosives and fireworks under the MCU then retreated. The timer was set to midnight."

"I saw in the footage that there was a woman with them. Any idea who she is?"

"None, he seems to have dragged her along, I'm not sure how she is involved in all this." Gordon seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He chewed on his lip for a bit then sighed.

"Batman, I need your help." He looked up with resignation and waited.

"How can I help detective?" Bruce was curious why Gordon would have such a look in his eyes.

"The woman. I'm not sure how she is tied to all this, but my gut tells me she is an innocent who just got in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't want to formally get her involved, not if I don't have to. I don't want to drag her name into this investigation and then have set his eyes on her. I know you have your ways. Find her if you can, and question her, let me know what you find." he turned away from the window and moved to pour a glass of water, "I could be wrong, she might be just as guilty, but who knows. She should be easy to find, just..." he paused. He didn't even have to turn around to know that Batman was gone, but he did anyway. Before him was an empty room.

"Some things never change," he sat down and opened his computer.

Outside the window, Bruce contacted Alfred, "Give me the address we found this morning."

"Sir, I believe she won't be at home at this time. She works at Arkham on the night shift today."

"Then that is where I'll go." And he was off into the night. His muscles beginning to remember the old moves and his heart strangely lighter than it had been in over a decade.

* * *

Harleen was still having a shity night, literally.

 _Who throws their shit, I mean really_ , she fumed as she stomped out of the doctors' showers that the hospital provided and into the gym like co-ed locker room where she kept an extra set of clothes.

That had been a rather unsettling experience and one that she hoped would never be repeated. Never again would she see Cobblepot without him being restrained.

The night had not started good and it continued to get worse.

She looked down at her watch. Four hours still to go. She groaned in pain.

 _Would this night never end?_

All she wanted to do was go home and rest, put her interaction with Arkham out of her mind, put J out of her mind. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could erase the last twenty-four hours from her life with a bottle of Captain Morgan and a liter of Coke.

As she dressed, she looked up at the TV in the corner, tuned into the Gotham broadcasting station. It was playing some rerun of a cop drama, one where the nice white detectives hunt down the terrorists who always seemed to be dark in color and slanted of eye.

Once dressed, Harleen sat down with a long sigh.

 _What am I doing_ , she thought as she put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. An image of J crossed her mind, and she shuddered.

 _Why do I keep thinking of him? He is bad news Harleen. Just let him go_ , but she couldn't stop seeing him.

She closed her eyes again and saw his face. She saw his hands as they lay on either side of her head. She felt his breath as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. Her throat became dry at the memory.

She stood up suddenly in frustration, _What is wrong with me!_

In her haste she hadn't noticed another presence enter the room, or that it had moved close enough to her that when she stood, she came face to face with his chest. Her eyes right on level with the bat signal on his chest. She stared at it dumbly for a second before she moved back in shock.

 _Batman? It can't be Batman_ , yet there definitely was a dark knight standing before her in head to toe black. His cowl covering his face, and a cape draping down his back. He seemed to find the shadows even in a room lit with light.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel?" His voice was deep and had a gravelly tone to it that she knew was for disguise. On any other man it would seem ridiculous, but on him it was nothing less than intimidating.

Before thinking through the merits of revealing that she was indeed Dr. Quinzel, her mind automatically answered, "Yes?'

 _Crap, he must be here about last night_ , why else would a masked vigilante who had been in retirement for so long come to see her. Her fear of being found and arrested rose again and words began to spill from her mouth.

"Please, sir, I didn't do anything. There were these men following me, then they attacked, and he was there, and he saved me, but then he took me to-" Her ramblings were interrupted by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Dr. Quinzel, calm down, you are safe here. I only want to ask you a few questions about your encounter last night."

"Oh," was all she could say as her sudden spurt of adrenaline faded and she crashed. She sat down fast on the bench she had previously occupied and stared in wonder at the man before her. He was a big man, probably handsome, though she could only see his chin and eyes, and he looked strong.

"Two scary men come to see me in one day, am I just lucky or is the devil playing tricks on me." It almost seemed like that was the case. She hadn't realized she had said that out loud until he answered her.

"I did not mean to frighten you Dr." and she knew he meant it. This man was dangerous, yes, but not in the way J was dangerous. She really was safe with him.

"Doctor, can you tell me what happened last night? Who was the man you encountered?"

Harleen again saw a flash of those eyes in her head, "He said his name was J."

"Only J?" His words sounded doubtful.

"That is what he said."

"What about the other men that were with him?"

"I did not get to speak or interact much with them, I have no idea who they are. They all wore masks. Except one man. He was very quiet and wore a suit."

Batman waited for her to continue, but when she remained silent he promoted, "How did you meet these men Dr?"

Harleen looked up at him with a dark shadow in her eyes, "He saved me." and for the first time Harleen let what happened to her, or what almost happened to her, role through her mind. Tears fell down her cheeks and a soft sob jerked its way out of her mouth. With stuttering breath she said more to herself than him, "They were going to kill me."

Batman looked confused, "Who? J and his men?"

She shook her head, "The policemen, three of them. At least they had badges. They were chasing me and had me cornered. They had me on the ground, they almost... They tried to." Again that soft sob escaped her mouth, and again she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You are safe now, Doctor"

Yes, thanks to him. Thanks to J.

"I didn't find footage of the incident that you are referring to."

Harleen looked up in shock, "But there were definitely cameras in that alley," she paused, then sighed, "They said they would erase them. They really must have done that."

She could see a dark and confused look pass through Batman's eyes.

"Dr. Quinzel, tell me everything from start to finish."

So, she did.

By the end of it, she felt drained. Again she looked down at her watch, expecting hours to have passed, but realized it had only been twenty minutes.

"I know he saved you doctor, however, I would advise that if you come in contact with him again, that you call the police. He is dangerous."

She scoffed, "I am acutely aware of that,"

Behind them, the TV let out a high pitched noise, so high and loud that Harleen had to cover her ears. She stared up at the TV and noticed that the cop show was no longer playing. Instead there was a large crooked J that was taking up the screen.

She felt her blood run cold.

A J on TV only hours after last night could only mean one thing, She turned her head and saw that Batman too was staring at the screen in confusion, but her attention was once again drawn to the screen as she heard that now familiar, haunting laugh.

"Hello there, Gotham," the crooked J was now replaced with him.

He wasn't wearing his guns, but instead donned a very high class suit. His hair was still green though and his complexion still deathly white. She was starting to think it was permanent. He smiled that same large, dangerous smile from last night, his teeth glittering, and Harleen knew that whatever he was about to say would change her life forever.

He continued with, "I seemed to have interrupted your latest worship session at the altar of daytime T.V. Sorry about that," He didn't really seem sorry.

"I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the everyday routine, the hilarity of a good joke, the tranquility of sex, the totality of the news. I enjoy them as much as the next man. However, I thought today, in the spirit of commemoration, you know, the days where important events such as the president being shot in the head, or millions of men blown up on a bloody battlefield are remembered with a barbecue and huge holiday commercial sales, I thought we could remember this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking time out of our busy lives to sit down and have a little chat," he folded his hands in an almost welcoming manner, his voice was soft and fun, the complete opposite to the words he was speaking.

"There are, of course, government pricks out there who do not want to let us have our fun. In fact, you can bet that right now, down in the bowels of city hall, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way to gently beat me with their batons, off camera of course," He laughed as if that was the funniest joke in the world before suddenly sobering and staring directly into the camera.

"Why? Because while fat cats may beat us, regiment our lives, and deny us the most basic of human rights all behind the guise of a bat signal, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means of meaning, they open our eyes to the joke of life, the truth of it all, and the cold, hard fact of it is there is something terribly fucked up about our city isn't there?" the happy facade was gone now. His words becoming more and more serious as he talked.

"I don't mean the gangsters, the prostitutes, or the drug pushers, all the things you can and will find in every aspect of human society every now and then, no, I mean the intolerance, oppression, and cruelty that pervades our everyday life. At one time, you could fuck who you wanted and say what you pleased. You could object freely and sell your porn on the street, but now you have censors and systems of surveillance coercing you to see your desires as shame and soliciting you to be good little drones in sweater vests and heels.

Now how did that happen? Who should we blame?

Well, be reassured that there are people who are more responsible than others, but if you want the dirty little truth my friends, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror." and as he stared into the camera, he seemed to be staring into her soul, and Harleen knew down deep in her bones that he was right.

He continued almost gently, "Trust me, I know why you did it. Just look at me. I looked into the black abyss that is this world and it looked back. I learned the ending to this sitcom, got the punchline to the awful joke this world was, and went crazy as a canary. So, trust me when I say, I know you were scared. Murder, war, radical Islamic terrorism, men in rompers! There were a million problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. You too started to look at that abyss, but instead of doing the sane thing and going crazy, you turned to the now Mayor Amanda Waller." He spat her name as one would spit out a rotten apple.

"She promised you order, she promised you peace and boredom, and all she demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I set out to end that silence. Last night I gave you the symphony that was the destruction of the MCU and the bat signal, to remind you of what you have forgotten. Over four hundred years ago, a great man without a mask set out to carve the fifth of november forever into our memories. His hope was to remind the world that freedom, fairness, and justice are more than just words we say to feel badass, they are perspectives, and if you don't have a perspective, trust me when I say one will be forced upon you and shoved down your throat till all you can say is 'thank you sir may I have another'."

His pause was long and his gaze intense, "So, if that doesn't bother you, if you see nothing, if you can ignore the taste of the government wet and slimy in your throat, then I would suggest that you allow this fifth of november to pass unmarked."

At this he leaned forward towards the camera his voice once again finding a passionate glee, "However, if you see what I see, if you feel what I feel, if you too would take a knife to any man who dared shove anything down your esophagus without your permission, then I ask you to stand beside me, one year outside the doors to city hall, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgotten."

Then the screen went black.

Harleen turned to Batman only to find an empty space beside her.


	4. What are the odds?

J for Joker

-What are the Odds?-

Detective Gordon stood with a group of officers outside the barricaded door to the broadcasting room of Gotham Television. Gun raised, he pressed his back against the wall and waited for the officers in front of him to finish their work. The door had been cemented in by some device, so the officers had been forced to bring acetylene torches. The irony was not lost on him that they were trying to breach the security door that had been designed to keep people out. It's purpose was to stop a force from breaking in and doing just what this mysterious man had done. This man who had swept past all of the station's defenses and taken control of the voice of the city. The man who had shocked them all by using the emergency channel to send out his message.

When the broadcast had started, Gordon and his men were already responding to the report of a triggered alarm at Gotham Television. He had been sitting in his office about to call Ryder, when the crooked J symbol appeared on his TV screen. A few seconds later, the man that only that morning he had been assigned to find revealed himself to the whole city.

The camera fell on the man's face. His hair was wild and green, and his piercing blue eyes were filled with madness. Gordon had listened to his words in stunned silence. He knew he should have been doing something, that this was not supposed to be happening, but he had become entranced by the screen. It wasn't until a few moments after the screen went black, and someone yelled his name from the adjoining room that he was startled from his thoughts. He ran out of the room to gather a squad to head to Gotham TV headquarters. It occurred to him on the way that the alarms probably had something to do with the broadcast.

Staring at the streets as they flew by, he found himself riddled with questions.

Who was this guy?

How had he done the things he had done, and still no one seemed to know who he was? He didn't hide his face behind a mask, yet there was no record of him. The biggest question struck him as he pulled into the parking lot of the building, most of the station's employees and several fire engines creating a scene of utter chaos in the parking lot.

Why now?

This bugged him more than anything else.

What brought this man about now when this city had been silent for so long? So many questions, and Gordon intended to ask them all to the man's ghostly face once they had him in custody, preferably before Crane's men showed up and carted him away.

But first, they had to catch him.

So far, the man had made no attempt to escape the fortified room which had no windows and only one door. The building itself was surrounded on all sides. In short, he was cornered. However, from inside the broadcasting room, he had control of all the communications technology that The Voice used to send its messages to the city, as well as the tech that facilitated the "Eyes and Ears" programs.

He had control, and he had been in there for almost an hour while Gordon's men cut away at the door. So far, he had been using the emergency channel to play softcore porn on a loop. However, Gordon knew the full damage of today's attack would remain unknown until they got inside. This room was the command center from which The Head gathered its information. Yet with all of its heavy fortifications, the man, J, hadn't been stopped. .

The hallway was eerily quiet, everyone waiting in anticipation for the door to open. But perhaps the most disturbing thing to Gordon wasn't the silence but the man standing beside him.

Jack Ryder for the first time in his life looked shaken. His hair had some strays sticking out, his tie was loose, and he chewed his nails anxiously. But, most telling of all to Gordon, was the lack of any trace of a smile on his face. Gordon was now seeing the man in a way he had never seen before.

It seemed this wild man, J or whoever he was, was determined to make fools of the members of The Head. Yesterday it had been Gordon. Today Ryder was taking his turn.

Gordon could see it in his body. Ryder had fucked up and he knew it. He kept muttering to himself. Gordon caught words here and there.

"...How to fix it... She's going to kill me... Not my fault.."

Gordon had a little sympathy for the man.

Only a little.

Suddenly, Ryder snapped his fingers and held them up in an "AH-Ha" moment. "Cameras," he exclaimed, "We need cameras!" He pushed past Gordon's men and rushed off down the hall.

Gordon shook his head in confusion _. I hope the man hasn't gone mad_.

The officers were nearing completion of the molten circle they were cutting through the door. Only a few inches to go. The two men with "The Big Key," a mini battering ram, stood ready to smash their way in.

Gordon took a deep steadying breath.

He had missed this.

The excitement, the rush he felt gripping his whole body. He was going into real danger for the first time in years. This feeling was the reason he had joined the force in the first place. He wanted to help people, sure, but nothing matched the adrenaline rush you got right before you took down a dangerous criminal. Knowing that this moment was life or death, that it may be you or him. Then the euphoria, of snapping the cuffs on them, knowing you had saved other people from this dangerous person. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt a unity with the men beside him, he knew they all felt the same.

Yes, there was nothing quite like this.

Ryder pushed back to his side clutching a small camera in his hands.

"What's that for?" his curiosity demanded he ask at the man's antics.

"Just stay out of my shot. I've got to get this." was Ryder's repy. The man's voice lacked its usual cordial guise.

 _Maybe he really is losing it_.

"As long as you stay out of my shot," Gordon replied, shaking his gun to show what he meant.

Ryder turned a little green. He was determined, but Gordon knew he had never been in a situation like this before.

"We're through," one of his officers shouted, pulling Gordon's attention.

The officers bearing "The Big Key" moved to the door and promptly unlocked it.

Gordon had been expecting a lot of things when they broke through the steel door (dead bodies, armed men to name a few), however, the sight that met them when they all poured through the opening was one that shocked them all into a moment of dumbfoundedness.

A huge party scene had taken over the studio. Music blared from speakers within, and the air was filled with haze that burned Gordon's eyes and caused him to cover his mouth. Disco balls hung from the ceiling, and rave lights flashed on and off showing the dancing and gyrating bodies of those who had turned the room into their own personal club. Peering through the fog, he noticed the people were all wearing Gotham T.V. Badges.

These were the everyday workers who ran this studio.

They didn't stop dancing for a moment, even when the police broke though the door. It was as if they didn't notice, or didn't care. Something else was controlling them.

Gordon's men began to lower their guns in confusion. "Stay alert! Weapons up!" Gordon yelled, but just then his pointman, the furthest into the room, dropped his beretta and waded towards the dance floor. Gordon looked around again. Something wasn't right. Something had to be affecting these people.

 _The haze_ , he realized, _he has to be pumping some kind of drug into the studio!_

"Everyone out!," he yelled, "He has some kind of drug in the air!" The ones who had been closer to the door ran back out, although three more who were further in didn't even flinch at Gordon's order. Instead they began to dance and laugh crazily, joining the employees and their pointman in the center of the room.

This was bad. Half his men were lost in the haze. He needed to clear the air in the room.

 _What can I do_ , he thought. The haze filled his lungs, and the beat of the music filled his ears. He felt a pulling at his mind to relax. To have fun.

 _But what about J? What about his men?_

A knife of dread tore through his mind, and he fell backwards against the wall. He felt something hit the middle of his back. He turned and regarded the fire alarm, half in a sense of mischief and half in a sense of panic.

 _Couldn't hurt_ , he thought, and pulled.

An alarm sounded and water began to pour from the ceiling.

The water soaked everything in the room, including himself, but it also seemed to be pulling the smoke from the air. The cold drops felt painful where they hit his skin, his breathing was labored, and he felt the loss of the false ecstasy acutely. The pain, however, helped focus him back to reality. It was familiar to Gordon, a learning tool given to him in his police training. However, the people on the improvised dance floor had no such training. Having been exposed to the drug longer, they were all groaning in misery. Some of them screaming and crying as the water hit their skin. They doubled in on themselves and fell to the floor, their senses in overload by the cold water and the sudden loss of the drug that had been fueling them.

As they fell, one man remained standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed in disappointment, his eyes trained steadily on the officers by the door, and Gordon got his first face to face look at the man who in only twenty four hours had turned their lives upside down.

The music played on and a menace that Gordon had never encountered before seethed under the lights dancing across the man's body. He was staring right into Gordon's eyes; No fear of being caught; No sign that the drug that had so affected the employees and his men had done the same to him. Only, excitement?

"You're early," J shouted over the pounding music.

 _What does he mean, early?_

Gordon was confused by everything that was happening, by the situation, by the lights, and mostly by the man. He found himself frozen to the wall. Caught in the gaze of the villain before him. No words would come to him. He vaguely realized that Ryder had moved up beside him, his camera pointing steadily at the man. Through his own fog, he saw his men rush in, guns held up in front of them as they began to surround their target. The people wailing in pain on the ground flailed and grabbed at the legs of the officers, slurring out their words, begging for help. The sprinklers continued to spray mist and rain while the music and lights blared.

 _Is this a dream?_.

"Get on the ground!" his officers shouted past their pointed weapons.

The man, J, didn't move. Eyes unchanging, a smile spread across his face. Then, through the epileptic chaos of the scene, Gordon heard that same laugh from the broadcast rise sharply through the cacophony.

A pause. Gordon blinked.

An officer fell screaming, clutching at the back of his knee. Gordon lost sight of J. _He's fast!_ By the time this had registered to him and his men, he saw J appear behind another, a blade tucked against his wrist. It plunged into the officer's back.

The officer collapsed.

J laughed.

Gordon started from his shock. He stepped into action.

"Stop now or I'll shoot," he commanded. J grinned and rushed towards him unconcerned.

In a single, well trained movement, Gordon adjusted on his target and fired. The bullet tore through J's shoulder and brought him to the ground. He fell instantly into a roll, and as swiftly as he had fallen was back up and once more charging forward, seemingly unfazed by the gunshot wound. Gordon trained his gun's sights on J's center mass and fired twice more, striking J with each shot, yet he surged forward all the same, cackling and brandishing his blade.

He was almost on Gordon.

Gordon fired again. Again. Time seemed to slow.

He aimed at that wild, smiling face.

Suddenly, a black blur entered his periphery and swept J off of his feet to the side. A final shot hit nothing but the empty air before him. The blur and J clung together and rolled through the water covering the ground. They slowed and Gordon squinted to see. _The Batman!_

J freed an arm and raised his knife to strike, receiving a kick in the stomach from the man clad in black. The pair rolled apart and came up on their feet in crouched positions, mirror images of each other.

Lights raved, music played, and the two men regarded each other; One dark and serious, the other with happy recognition rising in his eyes.

J quickly stood and danced in a circle, that stacato laugh ringing through the air.

"Ah, now HERE is a Batman!" J yelled over the noise.

The dark figure slowly rose, raising his hand to reveal a small object.

"Now you see me," his voice was husked in disguise. He pushed a button on the object, and the dancing lights and music went off all at once, leaving the room in utter darkness. A piercing silence hung in the air.

"Now you don't."

Gordon crouched defensively, jarred by the blackout and sudden loss of stimulation. Even the employees and officers who had been moaning in agony on the floor were stunned into a hushed stillness. Suddenly, a quick shuffle of feet, a flurry of strikes; Gordon aimed at the noise in futility. The splash of a body being slammed into the ground.

J howling with laughter.

The lights abruptly came back on. J was lying prone on the floor, the Batman kneeling on his back and holding him down. His hands were zip-tied behind him.

J struggled to catch his breath through his merriment. "SO EXCITING!" he mimicked the Batman's husked voice. His eyes closed, and his body twittered gleefully against the floor as his unrestrained hoots and heehaws seemed to overpower his senses.

It had all happened so fast, Gordon was unsure it was over until Batman looked up and called him and his men to come take the man below him. He moved forward, his gun still trained on the man on the floor, who was now apparently lost in fits of giggling.

"Batman, always good to see you," he commented as two officers hauled the crazed man to his feet. The Batman moved back away from the scene, further into the shadows of the room.

"Always happy to help, Gordon."

"I'm surprised you weren't the first person here." He gave J a final look and holstered his weapon.

"I was busy talking to our mystery woman." Batman was looking past him at J, studying the man.

"Well, I'm glad you made it."

Joker was lifted to his feet by the officers, laughing all the while, "Oh yes! The hero strikes again, welcome back Batman, I have been so looking forward to meeting you."

He was pulled from the room before he could say more. _The man is truly unhinged._

"What is the situation," Batman asked pulling Gordon's attention back to the room.

"Not clear yet until we can get more information out of him. He seemed to be using some kind of drug in the haze machine. Turned this place into a party. Surveillance shows him strolling in through the back entrance like he hadn't a care in the world. No one stopped him."

Batman frowned, "We've gotten soft."

Gordon looked around the room at the groaning people on the floor in pools of water. Paramedics were already seeing to the employees, and fellow officers were sitting with their drugged comrades. The two men who J had attacked were being taken away, but appeared to be stable.

 _At least nobody got killed._ _What chaos is this?_

"Maybe you're right," Gordon sighed, "we have to question him fast and the MCU no longer exists."

Another officer approached, hand coming off of his radio. "Sir? Message for you"

"Take him back to your headquarters for now," Batman replied, "I'll be watching this case." His words were echoed by a ringing laugh from the hallway beyond, "but, be careful Gordon. I can't shake this feeling that this was too easy." He turned to leave.

Gordon looked from Batman to the officer. "Sir, it's Crane. He wants the perp brought to Arkham."

Gordon winced and turned to the Batman. He was already gone.

* * *

 _Thirty minutes, just make it thirty more minutes and this God forsaken night will be over. You can go home, wrap up in your pink fluffy robe, and read some good romance novel while drinking hot cocoa_. This was the mantra that had been playing over and over in Harleen's head for the past few hours ever since Batman had left her standing confused and alone in the locker room.

Her focus had disappeared with the Dark Knight, and four hours of hell had commenced. She had slogged through her meetings, her notes not as neat as they usually were. She was running on fumes, but she still had one more session that was nearing its end. Then she could rest. Then maybe she could process the last twenty four hours.

The voice of her patient caused her to break from the mindless doodling in her notebook.

"I go around in circles, but always straight ahead. I never complain no matter where I am led."

 _Round in circles? That is my day in a nutshell_. She sighed in exhaustion and focused on what she had been writing. J over and over in different shapes and styles. She sighed again. I need some sleep.

"You seem distracted Doc," His eyes glanced down at the notes on her lap, "Anything on your mind?" His smile was a calculating one. Patients often tried to get the doctors to talk about themselves, which was of course against protocol. So instead of answering, she redirected. It was time to wrap up this session.

"The nurses told me that you seem to be reacting to the new medicine well, you haven't been having as many nightmares as before?"

Nigma laughed, "Nice dodge there Doc, don't want to talk about," he looked down at her notebook, "J?"

She closed the cover to hide her writing, "I would rather hear about you."

He leaned back in the chair he sat in and stared at her, "Yes, instead of nightly I would say more like once a week. Though, one may classify my waking life as a nightmare in and of itself." His gaze went up towards the ceiling and he began to hum a tune which instantly sounded familiar to her. She listened for a moment before true recognition hit her. A fear spread down to her toes and she felt drawn to ask even though she knew the answer.

"What song is that?"

"I believe it is Bohemian Rhapsody." and he continued on with his humming.

Harleen's body seized up and her mind immediately went to the night before.

Nigma studied her intently. He watched his doctor freeze and her eyes go wide with fear, or maybe excitement?

"Why that song?" She asked in a sort of daze.

"Hmm, I heard it playing last night from outside the cell. It must have been coming from the city somewhere. It played shortly before the sweet sounds of mayhem flowed in."

Mayhem, yes that is an apt description. Last night had caused nothing less in her life.

When Harleen remained silent lost in her thoughts, Nigma prompted, "So, what did happen last night? All us inmates are dying to know?"

Harleen swallowed and considered if she should tell him or not, finally deciding it couldn't hurt anyone.

"There was an explosion that blew up the MCU downtown."

Nigma suddenly stood up, pulling against his cuffs, and did his best interpretation of a dance with the little movement available to him. His laugh ringing in the air.

"Oh, how fantastic! An explosion." He sat down, still with a knowing smile on his face, "though I must admit doc, the TV said it was a planned demolition. How strange that you would phrase it as an explosion."

His smile for some reason made her angry. It reminded her too much of him.

"I simply misspoke. I thought you said you didn't know what happened."

"Knights and Knaves. You're still looking for the one that always tells the truth."

"Don't you think the truth is important Mr. Nigma?"

"Oh, definitively so, but I awoke one day long ago to the realization that truth is simply in the eye of the beholder. You believe the truth that I am insane, whereas I know the truth of my sanity. Ah, now who to believe? How do we decided? I suppose society must choose, but can we trust the masses? Looking back on history they haven't got too great of a track record."

"However, In the end the truth that wins is the one that has the most power behind it. I alone believe my actions have a rational purpose, but one against many often loses," He smiled and once again focused his attention on her, "Unless of course I can convince you otherwise. Then there would be two of us." He paused in consideration for a moment and spoke more to himself when he said, "but would that finally make me sane or just make you crazy too?"

For a second, Harleen actually found logic in his words. Another riddle? Or a truth?

"You are here Mr. Nigma for a reason. Do you remember why?"

"Killing people, I expect."

Again, his nonchalance with the fact that he had killed brought her mind back to J. What could cause people to think like that? Did she really want to know that answer.

"Yes Mr. Nigma. Your lack of remorse and inability to see what you did as wrong is part of the reason you are here instead of on death row."

Again a laugh, "Then why, dear doctor, would I ever want to see things differently?"

He had her there.

"If you can find sympathy for your victims, then maybe you can find a pathway to peace."

"Did you know that there is a crime for which you can be arrested while attempting, but not after you have committed it?"

She knew that riddle, "Hmm, I don't think suicide suits you Mr. Nigma."

He smiled, "I suppose not"

"We will talk more about your nightmares in our next session."

"We go round and round doc." As the attendants came to escort him away, Harleen followed him out the door and stared after his retreating form. It was finally time for her to go home. She would take tomorrow off like she should have done today. She would forget the last twenty four hours. She would hope no one else came looking for, and try to supress the fear that they would.

She shuffled her way down the hall. Her head hung in exhaustion and a little despair.

Unfocused, she did not register the people running past her. Nor did the sound of shouting gain her attention.

Harleen returned to her office and gathered her things. It was past time she get out of there.

As she locked up her office, she wove her way to the exit without bumping into anyone. She was way past small talk at this point. However, Harleen overheard some conversation that made it through her exhausted mind and caused her to pause.

"...nowhere else to take him so they brought him here."

"That's right, since the MCU was destroyed. They can't send him to general population, he would cause a riot."

"I heard Dr. Crane requested he be brought here anyway. He is at the top of their hit list since he destroyed that place and took over the TV."

"He sure is making waves, he didn't come quietly from what I heard. They're bringing him in now, though. The police finally brought him down."

Harleen dropped her purse, and its contents went scattering everywhere, but she didn't care. The people who had been talking turned and stared at her and she couldn't help but ask,

"Are you talking about the man from the TV earlier?"

"Yeah, the police caught him at the TV station. They are bringing him in the south entrance now."

She was running before she even realized her feet were moving. The people were calling out behind her. She had left her bag, but she didn't care.

Why was she running towards him? She wasn't sure. But she had to see him again. Maybe to make sure he was real, that it hadn't been a nightmare. That there really was a man out there who seemed to live without fear, who saved women from rape and destroyed buildings for fun.

She had to see him again.

As she turned around the final corner, she stopped dead and pulled herself back. She couldn't show up wildly like that infront of her peers. She took a calming breath, straightened her clothes, and turned the corner.

As she rounded it, she saw that most of the high ranking doctors along with a squadron of police congregated at the entrance. They all hovered around a man who sat on a row of benches. Both of his arms were handcuffed to his legs, and he appeared to be the worse for wear. His shirt was torn, his hair hung to the side. His pale face was covered in blood, and Harleen wondered if it was all his or someone else's? The people in the room gave him a wide berth, perhaps subconsciously. The circle they made around him was large enough that he couldn't reach them if he got free. So, even in this sea of people, he stood out. Even from here, with his head bent and his shoulders slumped, Harleen could tell that he was smiling.

"Ah, Dr. Quinzel, I see you have deemed it time for you to grace us with your presence. We have been calling you on the speaker for over ten minutes." Dr. Arkham's voice cut through the chatter and drew everyone to silence. Briefly, her focus was pulled from J to the aging man . All eyes turned to her as she walked from her viewing point at the edge of the room, to join the other doctors. She couldn't go home now, she had to know what was going on, what was going to happen to J.

As she was about to throw back to Arkham that she was indeed supposed to be off her shift now, she was stopped dead in her tracks. A laugh, that laugh, rose through the room. This one not an imitation like the one that Nigma had made earlier, but the real thing from the man himself.

The room was silenced, and everyone paused to regard the man. Harleen could sense that many were disturbed, and _that_ she could sympathize with completely. It had been such a short time, but it felt more familiar to her now than frightening. As it continued, she found herself taking one step then another, then another, until she was standing toe to toe with the man who had been plaguing her mind for the last 24 hours. The man she still wasn't convinced was real.

She reached out her hand to touch his wounded shoulder, unaware that everyone else was staring. That everyone else had been too intimidated to get close. As her finger brushed his skin and the heat of him radiated up her hand, J stopped his laughter and raised his head to look in her eyes. They were the same ones from the night before. Just as manic. Just as dangerous.

He spoke to her in a whisper, no one else could hear, "Harley Quinn, what are the odds of seeing you here?"


End file.
